"If I didn't care for fun and such, I'd probably amount to much. But I shall stay the way I am, because I do not give a damn." (Dorothy Parker)

Saturday, March 3, 2007

The perils of drunken text messaging.

I am a terrible drunken text messager.

Terrible, terrible, terrible.

Or, to put it another way, if you think sending someone a message saying "you smell like my cat's skin disease" is ever a good thing, I am a very very good drunken text messager.

I don't know what it is. Put a drink in one hand, a phone in the other and leave me alone at the bar and within two minutes I'll have either offended or propositioned the entire contents of my phone book (yeah sorry again about that, Dad). At the time, of course, it entertains me and passes the time while waiting for the next daquiri but in the cold hard light of my hangover the next day I've got to say it has usually lost a lot of the hilarity.

And it's got to stop. I can handle alienating friends, co workers and family but I'm churning through the phone bill like nobody's business. I've bonded with the guy on the Virgin help desk because I have to call up every two months to be reconnected thanks to my extreme non payment of bills.

Case in point: today I was separated from my mobile for about 10 hours after a night out on the turps. When I returned... 9 text messages, 7 missed calls and half a dozen voice messages.

And I'm really not popular, it's just when you send people messages like "you smell like poo and wee" (yep these are the jokes, people) they tend to get back to you. Even if it's just to offer to drive you to rehab.